I Remember You
by thewindsong
Summary: This story takes a brief look at Sheik's mother and her life raising her son on her own. It jumps between windows to their experiences together, their hardships, the quiet moments in between, and ultimately what ended up separating them so that the events in 'The Good Fall Harder from Grace' could take place. This was Sheik's life before the prisons ever became a part of his past.
**This little oneshot is actually sort of a companion piece to my other fic 'The Good Fall Harder from Grace', so if you haven't read that then this story may not make the most sense to you. But if you haven't read the main fic, then you should maybe check it out! Curious? It's a very, very slow burn M!Sheik/Link fic with plenty of angst. Give it a look if you'd like. :)**

 **And hey, if you're still reading, please enjoy this little side story! A forewarning to any sensitive readers-it contains a fair bit of violence.**

* * *

 **I Remember You**

* * *

Niri sighed, scowling ahead at the little house. It was stuffed and cramped between two other just as ramshackle dwellings in a long lineup of small, crumbling buildings down a crowded and dusty street.

This was home.

Or at least it was home _now_. _Their_ home. And they could live a happy life together there, she could almost picture it. It wasn't too bad of a place to raise a child, and she'd certainly been brought up under worse conditions than a tiny little one-roomed house that was falling apart. She knew it wasn't much, but at the same time, it was _perfect_.

"What do you think, baby boy?" she whispered, hiking him further up her hip before he started slipping. "We could make it work, right? Do you like it?"

Large red eyes framed by unruly golden tufts of hair turned to gaze silently up at her, and the little boy cocked his head, his tiny lips pursing together in a tight line as he regarded her with suspicion.

She huffed playfully, turning her smile away from him to glance up at the small, derelict stone house once again. She didn't pay much attention to the frayed thatching or crooked door, nor that the place wasn't much bigger than a horse stall. What she saw was a future for them, in that little house, in that little city on that cramped little street.

"I wanna go home," his little voice said, barely more than a timid whisper.

Niri hummed softly, shifting his small body against hers and then leaning down, setting him to stand on his own two feet. He wobbled just a bit, clinging to her skirt. "This _is_ our home now, Sheik," she said gently. His little eyebrows pricked together on his forehead as he stared up at her unhappily. She smiled, shrugging. "It'll be fine, baby, you'll see. Just as soon as we clear the dust out and light a fire." This can be home too." She had to _believe_ this was going to work. Otherwise what hope was there for them?

With one last long exhale she turned and looked back down at Sheik. He was glaring at the house like it would be his death, which was silly. It was their salvation, he just didn't know it yet.

"Well, you know what?" Niri said, leaning down and prying his tiny hand off of her skirt, taking it in her own. With her other hand she leaned down and grabbed their bags, the few possessions they had in the world. "Let's just try it out for now, okay? Maybe you'll even like it. _Maybe_ ," she said, leading him forward, up the two small steps to the crooked doorframe. "You might even make some friends."

"I don't wanna," he grumbled, raising his chin and puffing out his little chest resolutely.

"Oh, Sheik," Niri breathed, laughing softly. Setting their bags down on the doorstep, she pulled the key from the pockets of her skirt and slid it into the keyhole, grimacing when it took a bit of force to get the rusted old thing to turn. "Nobody _wants_ to try new things," she said, ramming her shoulder into the door to get it to open. People in the dusty, narrow street were stopping to watch them now, the unmarried Sheikah woman and her son. That's what they would be to these people, but that was just fine. She didn't care. All she wanted was a good life for Sheik, and if she tried hard enough, she could get that for him here.

With an eruption of dust that had them both erupting into fits of coughing, the door burst open to a dark, lonely little room. There was a stone fireplace in the corner and a large wooden bath in the other, but not much else. The house was just the one room, but Niri didn't care because it was _theirs_. It was _their_ space, and that was what was important. They'd never had a place of their own.

Sheik walked ahead of her, his arms hugging himself tightly and his little shoulders hunched up to his ears. She watched with a small smile as he did a circle of the room, pausing near the only window to trace his finger through the thick coating of dust on the sill, wrinkling his nose in distaste at it before sucking in a breath and blowing it away. He squatted down in front of the fireplace and crawled forward, trying to peer up the chimney.

"So what do you think?" Niri asked, closing the old wooden door behind her with a kick, crossing her arms.

Sheik crawled back out from the fireplace, his hands and knees filthy with soot. He stood before her, mirroring her pose with his arms crossed out in front of him, a haughty expression on is little face. "I _don't_ like it," he growled at her. "And I want to go home."

Niri let out a heavy breath. "There is no old home to go back to, baby," she said gently, kneeling on the floor. Sheik didn't look appeased.

She sighed. By 'home' Sheik was referring to the mansion where they'd lived in a crowded servant's quarters with twenty others. When she had given birth to Sheik—four years ago at the age of nineteen—she'd been all on her own, his father nowhere to be found and her parents long dead. She'd been young and alone, reduced to begging in the streets, sick and starved, with a newborn baby clutched to her chest. Anya had found her then, the head of staff at a wealthy nobleman's manor—who had an alleged claim as fifth in line to the throne or something like that—and she had offered Niri a job in exchange for room and board. Niri had worked there for almost four years, until the time came when Sheik got to be too big. He ate enough that both of their rations could no longer be covered by Niri's work, or so they had told her. And so Anya had informed them that it was time to go.

It hurt, hearing that they were no longer welcome in a place she had devoted so many years of her life to. They'd had friends there, other servants who'd cared for them. It had been a good life; but as she knew, all good things eventually came to an end.

Niri had scrounged and saved just enough to meagerly support her and her son for about a month or so as they travelled east, seeking out new employment. Well, that was where Niri had met Ashei, the stern-faced yet fair wife of a horse breeder who agreed to let Niri and Sheik live in this house and earn a small wage in exchange for work in their stables. Niri hadn't been too keen on the idea of mucking out horse stalls and other equally backbreaking labor, but one glance over at Sheik and she had agreed, and she didn't regret a thing.

This place was a blessing, and even though it was small and broken, it was theirs alone. It wasn't a room full of twenty other servants all living together in the attic of the lord they served. It was a place for her and her son, and no one else. And she was going to do her best by him, and that meant accepting this job.

"There is _too_ a home to go back to," Sheik whined, stamping his foot. "I've been telling you all this time, mama! Why can't we just go back to the mansion and live with the others?" He looked around with narrowed eyes at the one-roomed house, wrinkling his nose. "I hate it here. It's gross. It's worse than when we had to sleep in the street all those times on our way down here." He fixed her with a scathing look, and Niri was surprised a four year old could manage that amount of disapproval in one expression. "I hate it," he repeated, sulking.

Niri shrugged, feeling only a little defeated at her son's words. He just didn't understand, and that was okay. He was young. "I'm sorry, baby" she murmured, giving him a small, sad smile. "It's the best that I could do for us right now." She lowered herself to her knees, holding out her arms. "Come here."

He perked up at that, walking forward into her arms. She enveloped him in a tight hug, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent before letting him go, smoothing down his wild blonde hair. "So it's just for now?" he asked, cocking his head, his big red eyes gazing at her. "Cause you said it was the best we could do _right now_." He crossed his arms again. "That means it's not forever, right? Right? You have to promise."

She gave him a smile. "Sheik, baby, nothing is forever. Not even this."

The frown on his face melted away quickly into a wide, happy grin. Sheik nodded his head vigorously in agreement, his golden hair that was perhaps getting a little too long swishing with the motion.

"So we got to clean up?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," Niri agreed, standing to her feet. "And we have to do it quick, because I have to go and work tomorrow, and you have to come with me."

Sheik, who had gone to the bags at her side and was searching through them, glanced up at her, one of his little eyebrows pricked up in interest. "And I'll get to see horses there, right?"

Niri stood to her feet again, nodding. "That's right. But you'll have to help, alright? That's part of our deal, remember? No playing all day."

Sheik nodded very seriously. "I understand, mama," he said resolutely.

She clapped her hands together, tucking a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Well then it's settled!" she said warmly, putting on just a little bit of a show for the boy, who was much more cheerful now than when they'd arrived. "Why don't you go and open up that window over there so we can air this place out, and then we'll go and borrow some supplies from my new master, alright, baby?"

"Yeah!" Sheik agreed with excitement, bouncing over to the window and struggling with all his small might to pry it open. His forehead barely came up over the sill, the poor dear thing.

Niri breathed in slowly, surveying the tiny stone room that would be their home. It wasn't much, but it was just what they needed. It was theirs, just for her and her boy, and that alone was what made it special. She greatly hoped life would be better for them there; that things would feel like less of a struggle. Before Sheik, she'd never really spent too much time taking care of herself or worrying about a place to stay or having food to eat. She'd always managed, living day by day, never really knowing how the next would turn out. She had survived well enough when her parents had died and she'd been left on her own. It hadn't been glamorous in any aspect, but she'd made it through in one piece, despite the fact that it wasn't easy growing up and living poor in Hyrule. The homeless and penniless had it the worse, but she'd been able to find help in a few places that were willing to put her up for a few nights in exchange for hard work; and she was a very hard worker. When Sorren had been arrested and sent to the prisons before Sheik was even born, once again she'd been left on her own to fend for herself in whatever way she could. She was a survivor, able to overcome whatever life deigned to throw at her.

But she wanted better than that for Sheik. She wanted him to have stability and normalcy and little friends for him to run around the city making trouble with. They were usually looked down upon wherever they went—the unmarried Sheikah mother with her Sheikah bastard—but she rarely let that get her down. They were just old prejudices after all, and the last thing she wanted was to give any kind of credence to those awful words by not taking proper care of her son. And so she worked. And this time around, she was fairly confident she'd found a good deal. They would have a home, and food to eat if they saved every penny. All in all, they really couldn't have asked for more; not when so many had it worse.

"Mama! Mama!" Sheik chanted, breaking Niri from her thoughts. His feet were off the ground and he was leaning halfway out the window, looking outside onto the crowded dusty street. He glanced back at her over his shoulder, and seeing that he'd caught her attention, he grinned.

"Looks like you did it!" Niri said with a smile. She held out her hand. "Come on. Time to go talk to mama's new boss."

He skipped over to her, his small round cheeks bunched up in a huge smile. "And then we'll clean our house up, right?"

"Yup!" she agreed animatedly, leading him outside and then locking the door behind them. "Let's go!"

They walked hand in hand down the cramped dusty street, Niri leading her son and ignoring every single person who stopped to look and whisper at them. She didn't care. This was their new life, and she was going to make it as good for Sheik as she could.

* * *

 **Two Years Later**

* * *

It had been nearly an hour and Sheik hadn't yet returned from the errand that their master, Hatton—the man who owned the stables—had sent him on. Niri was starting to worry. Sheik was only six, and she _knew_ that was young, but she also knew Sheik was sensible and had a good head on his shoulders. He occasionally got into fights with other kids sometimes—usually because some of the Hylian children around the city had made sort of a game out of picking on him—but surely he couldn't have gotten himself into trouble in such a short time?

He'd only been asked to deliver a letter across the city. That would have taken him thirty minutes at most, and yet now it was approaching a full hour since he had scampered off down the street, parchment envelope tucked under one arm. There was a huge celebration happening in the city square that day, in festivity of the birth of the newborn prince in Castle Town. It was quite a big deal to all of the rich nobleman and lords around the city because a baby prince meant there was a new heir to the throne. On the other hand, though, there was a lot of grumbling from a few rich hopefuls that might have otherwise had a claim to the throne had a male heir not just been born. Frankly, Niri didn't care, because whoever was king or not king or controlled the kingdom meant little to someone as poor as her; however, it could have been that her son had been delayed or slowed down somehow by the celebration in the town square.

"Niri!" a loud male voice called from the entrance to the stable.

Niri sighed, shaking her head, and stood up off of her knees in the stall she'd been working in. The air smelled of horses and straw, but she'd grown used to it. Her master, Hatton, however—a very tall man who was known for his thick beard and leather trousers—was rich enough that he could afford not to work in his own stables, so his nose was wrinkled in revulsion as he approached her.

He looked irritated and impatient, fuming as he stalked over to her, the horses in their stalls snorting and flipping their manes as he stomped past. His eyes moved down from her sweaty face to the dirty stains on her knees and back up again, lips curling just a bit in distaste.

"Sir?" Niri asked stiffly, not appreciating the scrutiny. She tucked a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear, resting one hand on her hip.

"Where is that brat of yours?" Hatton demanded, crossing his arms. "I sent him off with that message over an hour ago, and I'm expecting a reply! I didn't pay you for him to deliver it so he could frolic around the city!"

Niri stared up at his angry face and tried to think of words to say that would appease him. "I'm sorry, sir," she said, pausing to bite her lip. "He usually doesn't—"

"If that spawn of yours is out making trouble again while I'm paying you two good money to work, than I swear to you, woman, you'll be out—"

"Sir?"

Both Niri and Hatton turned in surprise at the small voice that had spoken from the entrance to the stable. Sheik stood there, silhouetted by the light pooling in from outside, looking small and disheveled. Niri wanted to cry when she saw him. He was scraped up from head to toe, his clothes torn, blonde hair wild and messy. There was dried blood running down from his nose, and bruises and scuffs all over his cheeks and arms. He was also missing a shoe, and Niri didn't even want to guess how that had happened.

On one hand, she wanted to bring her son into her arms and kiss every last one of his marks and smooth down his hair and comfort him; because while his face was pinched in anger, it was also obvious from the tear tracks running streaks through the dirt smudged on his face that he'd been crying. However, on the other hand, as a mother who was trying her damndest to keep them both safe and fed and off the streets, she wanted to shake him until he promised to stop doing things like this.

"Boy!" Hatton shouted, stomping over to where Sheik stood in the door. Sheik visibly shrank away as the giant of a man approached him, a sight that made Niri's heart ache. She longed to protect him from times like this, but they were on thin ice with Hatton as it was, and it was her ultimate responsibility to not lose this job which was the only thing supporting them.

Hatton grabbed Sheik by the upper arm and yanked him forward, snatching away the small envelope he had tucked under his other arm. "Next time I send you on an errand, I expect not to be kept waiting by your _criminal activities_!" Sheik cried out sharply when Hatton lifted him off the ground by the arm and threw him forward at the ground like a rag doll. He landed in the straw near Niri's feet. She managed to hold her tongue, but she gave Hatton the most hateful glare she could muster, scowling at him with every seed of hate she had in her body.

"This is your last warning, woman," Hatton spat, pointing a thick finger at her. "Shape up your Sheikah brat, or there will be consequences. I've been very fair to the two of you despite all of the drama you brought with you, and I expect better!"

With that, Hatton left, turning on his heel and stomping with his heavy boots back out through the door of the stable, the horses whickering quietly as he left.

When he was gone, Niri bent over and pulled Sheik to his feet, brushing the dirt off of him and picking straw from his hair, frowning. She loved her son with all her heart—Sheik, her little boy, was her entire world—but she would be lying if she didn't sometimes imagine a life in which he wasn't her burden to care for. Not that her boy was a burden, but he…

Oh goddesses, she loved him with everything in her she had to give, but their life together wasn't an easy one. If all she had to look out for was herself, she would have left this place a year ago, but things just weren't like that. Sheik didn't have a father, and so it was her duty to be both father and mother to him, and that was quite possibly even more exhausting than mucking out horse stalls day after day. However, through all these private thoughts, there was one thing she was sure of: she wouldn't trade Sheik for anything. He was her son, and that was how it would always be. He was hers, and he was the best thing about her life; the best thing about _her_. That's all there was to it.

With a small, sad sigh, Niri straightened back up to her feet and regarded Sheik with as much patience as she could muster at this point. He was so small, so battered and yet still so defiant; standing there with his tiny hands balled into fists and his shoulders hunched.

Niri didn't say a word, just stood there staring at her son who was still refusing to meet her eyes, waiting patiently until he spoke.

Finally the dam broke. "I got beat up," Sheik mumbled, keeping his narrowed red eyes fixed acutely on the ground. "Some stupid older boys, in the city square."

"You were fighting with other boys again?" Niri asked slowly, trying to keep her exasperation in check. She loved him, but this needed to stop. " _Again_?" She put a hand to her forehead, bringing it down until she could pinch the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. "Because I've told you to stop getting yourself into trouble like that. We have to be _careful_ here, Sheik. Most people don't like us, and the last thing we want is to give them a reason to spurn us more."

"It wasn't my fault," Sheik grumbled, and Niri sighed, opening her eyes to find him crossing his arms, still glaring at his feet.

"All right," Niri said gently, kneeling down in front of him slowly, grimacing at the pull on her sore muscles. She put both of her hands on her son's thin shoulders, squeezing them tightly. "Just tell me what happened, baby."

Sheik's little bruised and scuffed face was still twisted up in anger, but he heaved in a great breath and dropped his crossed arms, finally meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry, mama," he murmured, voice softer now. "I didn't mean to this time, I swear."

Niri nodded, maintaining their eye contact, trying her hardest to show kindness in her face despite her exhaustion and frustration. "It's all right, Sheik, you're not going to be in any trouble. But I want you to tell me."

Sheik fidgeted under her hold, picking at the hem of his torn and too-big shirt with little fingers.

"You weren't even supposed to be in the city square, baby," she said gently. "Straight there and straight back, that's what Hatton told you."

Sheik whined, his whole body shaking. "I just wanted to go and see real quick, mama, I swear!" He looked away, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. "I've never seen a party that big before."

"You mean for the Prince?" she asked.

Sheik nodded. "I was just standin' there watchin', honest, just for a minute. But then some older boys who were wearing rich clothes saw me and pushed me into the wall an' told me that I wasn't allowed to be there."

Niri raised an eyebrow. She was used to stories like this by now. "And what did you say to them?"

Sheik wrinkled up his little nose, scowling again. "I told them I didn't care about their stupid prince, and I was just lookin' anyways. And then they told me the Prince wasn't stupid but that I was, and then I said that they were stupid and that their rich clothes made them look like princesses, and then they threw me on the ground and started kicking me!" Sheik sniffed quietly. "And I bit one of them on the leg, and then he punched me in the nose." The little boy pointed to his nose. "That's why I'm bleeding, see?"

"I see," Niri said softly, peering closer at his face. "Anything else I should know?"

Sheik nodded, the tiniest grin pulling at his lips, brightening his miserable expression. "Yeah. I kicked one of them between the legs and made him fall over and cry." A small giggle spilled from his mouth. "That part was pretty cool."

Niri let out a small huff of amusement. Taking one hand from his shoulder, she reached up and ruffled his hair. "Well at least you're good at defending yourself. How did the fight end? Did anyone else get hurt?"

"Not really," Sheik mumbled, but then he frowned. "But then a soldier saw us and made us stop, and he threw me onto the ground and yelled at me to get out of there, so then I ran back here."

Niri closed her eyes and pulled Sheik by the shoulders into her arms, burying her nose in his hair, holding him tight. "Well," she said quietly. "You're okay now, baby. You didn't do anything wrong, I want you to know that." Sheik began to fidget, so Niri let him go from the embrace, but she held onto his hands and fixed him with a stern look. "But next time someone tries to fight you, instead of fighting back, you just run away as fast as you can, alright? You run back here to me, and I'll make sure they don't hurt you."

"Yes, mama," Sheik said softly, and then he smiled. "I'm alright, really. But my shoulder hurts real bad from where the solider threw me, and my _other_ shoulder hurts from where Mister Hatton threw me."

"We'll clean you up when we get home," she promised.

Sheik's face fell. "I gotta work still?"

"For a few more hours," Niri said gently. "I'll let you brush down one of the horses, though, how does that sound?"

Sheik's little and bruised face lit up. "Yeah!" he said excitedly, bouncing a little on his feet. "Who needs a party for a stupid baby prince when you can pet a real horse!"

Niri straightened as Sheik scampered off to find the brush and bucket. She didn't know what to think about their life there anymore. It certainly wasn't what she'd wanted, but it was better than other places they could have ended up, or at least that's what she kept telling herself. Sheik at least seemed happy most of the time, and that was what was important. She was proud of him, though. Proud of her boy, because it took a strong character, even in a six year old, to still be able to smile and laugh and see good things in the world when you were kicked around by everyone you met. She loved him so dearly. Things would get better for them, she knew they would. She had faith.

It had been a long day. Niri had been working herself to the bone since dawn; and now it was blessedly, thankfully evening. She was sat on the floor in front of the small stone fireplace, thinking about how this rundown old house had been their home for almost six full years. It was amazing how fast time flew by; too fast to see much of it go, she often thought.

* * *

 **Four Years Later**

* * *

Sheik hadn't arrived home yet, but he rarely came home before her now. Not ever since his newfound freedom as a full-fledged messenger boy. He got to run all around the city all day delivering things rather than clean up after and groom horses like she did, and he thought himself mighty grown up because of it. She supposed that _was_ a lot of freedom for a ten year old, but it got him away from the stables where Hatton so loved to verbally and physically abuse him. She hated him being out of her sight all day, but he hadn't gotten into a fight in months, and she _knew_ he was careful. He'd promised her he would be.

Just then, Sheik's key turned in the lock and he was there at the door, pushing the crooked thing in with his shoulder. All these years and Niri had never gotten around to fixing it. She was too tired these days to attempt any form of housework or maintenance.

"Hey, baby," she said softly, turning back to the fire, curling her toes at the heat.

"Hey, mama," Sheik murmured, kicking off his boots, padding over to her and leaning down, pecking her on her forehead. She smiled up at him, catching and squeezing his hand before he moved away to their table to set down his messenger bag.

"How was your day?" Niri asked, staring at the flames licking up the log in the grate.

"Lord Namson's wife finally caught him in his affair with Sarah," he commented.

Niri's forehead wrinkled in thought. "Sarah, is that…?"

"The servant girl," Sheik said softly, padding back over to sit beside her on the ground, stuffing a chunk of cooked potato in his mouth. There was no real furniture in their house apart from the rickety old table and two small wooden chairs they'd picked from the street one day when a local tavern had been throwing them away. As far as their beds went, they slept in the corner on straw mattresses and used the wooden floor for pretty much everything else. It wasn't much fun to come home to straw and hard floors after a day's labor, but Niri was still grateful to have a home for her and her son.

"It was about time, too," Sheik said past his mouthful. "He'd been fucking her since—"

Niri sat bolt upright at that, swatting him on the leg. "Sheik! Do _not_ let me here you talking like that again! You're ten, for the love of the goddesses! That's not too old for me to wash that awful mouth of yours out with soap."

Sheik wasn't tiny anymore, but he wasn't big. He was at that odd stage that most ten year olds were—on the verge of a growth-spurt but still undeniably a child. He gave her a look. A look that a son should have no business giving to his mother. "Mama, come on," he said, rolling his eyes. "I've heard you call Lord Hatton worse than that plenty of times. Where do you think I learn all these words?"

She snorted in amusement, nudging his shoulder with hers. "Not from me, you horrible little beast."

He laughed softly, taking another bite of his potato, the only food Niri had had around to prepare for supper. "A soldier spat on me again today," he murmured offhandedly, looking down at his lap.

The comment had come from so far out of nowhere that Niri was taken aback. She turned to him, blinking several times before she had the sense to say something. "You don't pay them any mind, Sheik," she said sternly. "They certainly don't have the decency to pay us any."

"I know," Sheik said over a sigh. He leaned in, resting his head on her shoulder. "It was partially my fault anyways. One of my errands took me through the market today, and I—"

"No stealing," Niri said at once, her voice sharp. She already knew where this story was headed. He'd tried it once or twice before, and she always yelled at him for it. The consequences were too serious to brush off like they were nothing. "Sheik," she said firmly. "They'll do awful things to you if they catch you doing it, and I don't want to have to come across them carving you up in the square one day because you swiped an apple."

"Mama, I _didn't_ ," Sheik growled, sounding petulant. "I thought about it, but I didn't, okay?"

Niri squeezed his leg sharply, making him yip in surprise, pulling it away from her before he turned completely over and settled down on his back, his head falling in her lap. Niri sighed wearily and began combing through his hair with her fingers, going back to staring at the flames.

"All I know is that if they took you away from me, Sheik, I wouldn't know how to go on living." She leaned down, her long hair falling over her shoulders and cascading down in a curtain around them, framing their faces together. He pouted out his lower lip, staring up at her, and she smiled back, bending to kiss him on the forehead before sitting back and resuming stroking through his hair.

"The soldiers are so stupid they wouldn't even notice if I did it in front of them," he mumbled, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "Mama, I swear, it's so unfair. I didn't even _do_ anything. One of the people I delivered a message to today tipped me pretty well, and I wanted to use the extra money to buy you something nice in the market, so on my way back I stopped there to have a look around, but they wouldn't even let me _look_. It took them a couple of minutes, but as soon as they _saw_ me they made me leave. I didn't even do anything, I swear."

Hearing that made Niri's heart fracture in two. After as hard as she'd worked to build a life there in that city for her son, and they were still being treated like criminals.

Niri hummed, though, pushing her anger away. She didn't want Sheik to see it. "It was nice of you, baby, to try and think of me. You're such a sweet boy."

"I love you," he said softly, turning over and curling onto his side. "It's not fair that they wouldn't let me look."

"Just stay away from the market from now on, baby," she advised, still carding her fingers through his soft blonde hair. "Next time you get a little extra money, spend it at Paula's tavern. She likes us there, and she's good to us when we need her help."

Niri could just make out Sheik wrinkling his nose from where he was turned to the side. "It smells like pipe weed in there," he complained.

"Ah, but they have such yummy pies," Niri challenged. Sheik sat bolt upright at that, startling her. He turned and stared at her with his big red eyes peeled open wide, his eyebrows shooting straight up.

"I should have bought you a pie!" he exclaimed. "Mama, I'm sorry! I can go buy us one now, just wait here real quick and I'll—"

Niri laughed, which made Sheik furrow his brow and narrowed his eyes comically. He looked so put out, so grumpy that it reminded her a lot of the look his father had given her once or twice when she'd said something silly to him. She still wondered sometimes, about where Sorren had ended up. Was he still in the prisons? Was he even still alive? He'd been such a reckless man when she'd known it that she found herself doubting that he was. Still though, she missed him sometimes. There's wasn't any great love story or anything like that, but she'd been fond of him in the time she'd known him.

Niri subsided her giggling, letting out a wistful sigh as she stared at her boy as his face softened into something less taken aback and more relaxed. "Sheik, baby," she said gently. "It's a better gift to me if you stay put right where you are. Let's just rest for the night, alright? I'll make tea."

Sheik wrinkled his nose up again, his expression twisting in disgust. "But I hate tea," he pointed out.

Niri groaned as she got to her sore and tired feet, her muscles protesting every move. "You don't hate peppermint tea. Which I bought for you special from Paula on the way home today."

A slow, shy smile spread its way across Sheik's face then, lighting it up like the summer sun. "Mama!" he protested loudly, laughing. "We're too poor! You have to quit buying that stuff!"

"Oh, but my Sheik loves it so much!" she sang, walking over to the table and hefting up the little cast iron teapot she'd saved up for years ago. She went about pouring water from the bucket they gathered from the well every morning and adding the leaves before lifting the heavy little teapot and bringing it over to the fire. Sheik was on his knees stirring around the coals with the fire poker, creating a bed of burning cherry red embers where she set the teapot. They both watched it heat together, pressed up against one another for warmth and companionship. It was a nice way to spend an evening. This, these small moments of content, kindness, and affection between them were the reasons she worked so hard every day. This, right here, was the life she'd wanted them to have all along. Sure, it wasn't perfect; she was always tired, and Sheik still had his occasional scuffs. But what did any of that matter when they were happy?

* * *

 **Two Years Later**

* * *

Niri knew something was wrong. Call it instinct, intuition, whatever it may have been, but she _knew_ something was wrong. Sheik hadn't come home.

Sure, he was only a few minutes late, maybe twenty or thirty at most, but Niri still thought that was odd. Sheik—though he was an obstinate twelve-year old who rolled his eyes at her every time she turned her back—was still incredibly conscientious, and never came home late. Over the years, coming home late had become the telltale sign that something bad had happened to one of them. Whenever Niri showed up after dark, Sheik always knew right away to put the kettle on the fire for tea because Niri had more than likely endured a shouting fest at the hands of her master, Hatton. When Sheik came home late, though, it usually meant he'd gotten himself into another fight. That was exactly what Niri was afraid of.

Things were harder for them these days, there was no getting around that. Sheik was well known around the city for being a troublemaker, though Niri knew more than half of it wasn't his fault. He basically got picked on by anyone who saw him, older boys especially. And as for her, Niri had broken a wrist working in the stables a little over two months ago, which meant she couldn't work like she used to. Lord Hatton hadn't fired her, praise the goddesses, but he had significantly cut the already meager wage he paid her. If Niri didn't have Sheik, she still may have been able to make ends meet, albeit just barely; however, with his mouth to feed as well, they were falling very, very behind. Sheik was able to make a small wage every day as a messenger boy, but it did very little to add to their coffers.

There had been more than a few nights when Niri had eaten only a bite or two of whatever small thing she had made for Sheik because there just wasn't enough to go around. On these nights, Niri—who arrived home before Sheik almost always—would pretend she had eaten before Sheik had gotten home, but she knew that Sheik knew it for the lie it was. The boy, bless his heart, would always make sure she had at least some of the food to keep her going, though Niri always refused taking more than just a little.

The lack of a good meal was leading to other unfortunate side effects, though. Every time she looked at Sheik, all she could think was of how skinny he looked, cheekbones prominent and skin stretched over ribs; and she knew that she was worse off than he was in that regard. She was so tired all of the time, and working with both a broken wrist and an ever-present sense of gnawing hunger was enough to make her wish for death at times.

Niri sat at the table in their home, leaning back in one of their small, rickety chairs and watching the crowded dusty street through the one window, a collection of deep lines set into her forehead. All these thoughts of hard times and hunger, coupled with her son having yet to return, were making for a miserable evening.

Niri sighed, leaning forward on the table, dropping her head onto her arms. "Please let him be alright this time. Please, don't let him do anything stupid," she prayed.

Another five minutes passed, and the sky was beginning to darken. This was the latest Sheik had ever taken to come home.

Inhaling deeply, Niri stood from the table and grabbed her bag from the hook by the crooked door, slinging it over her shoulder. She locked the door on her way out and then set off down the crowded street, not really knowing where to go.

The streets were rather emptied for this time of day, Niri thought. Sure, the market in the city square would be closing down by then, but all these side streets should be filled with people making their tired way home for the day, or packing up their wares. Niri saw more than a couple abandoned stalls, which only made her worry even more about everyone's absence until she turned the corner and was almost run over by a young man rushing by, practically running up the street.

This seemed odd to her, especially with the empty thoroughfares; so before he could get very far away, Niri called out to him. "Where is everyone?" she asked.

The boy—breathing hard, raked a pile of curls off of his forehead before answering, pointing up the street in the direction he'd been heading. "My pals said a thief got caught at it a few minutes ago! Everyone's headed to the square to see what the soldiers will do!"

Niri's blood ran cold, her heart picking up pace tenfold. Thievery wasn't very prevalent in their city because whenever someone was caught at it, it was a custom for the soldiers to make a spectacle out of their punishment. Everyone knew that. The first time you got caught, you were marked in some way so that everyone knew you were a thief. Usually it was a scar on the face or a finger or two off, or if you were really unlucky, they'd brand you. If you were foolish enough to try it again, you'd be sent off to the prisons immediately.

Most of the goods and wares being sold in the markets were owned by the wealthy lords of the city, and most of the prices were terribly high. Sheik and Niri and all the poor in the city knew all too well the reasons behind the severe punishment inflicted on those who dared to take the risk. It was the greed of the wealthy. After all, what kind of person did it take to turn to stealing in the first place? It was a last measure taken by the poor and the desperate. The high prices coupled with the severe punishment were just another way for the rich to keep a firm grip around the necks of the people of the city, keeping them working and keeping them in poverty.

But if that boy was telling the truth, and someone had been caught? Then what was about to happen in the city square wasn't going to be pretty. It was barbaric, the way people were flooding there to watch.

But Sheik hadn't come home. He, just like her, knew firsthand how desperately they were clinging to survival at that point, and he hadn't shown up back home when he was supposed to. Niri had had suspicions of him trying to steal things in the past, but she had shaken him and made him swear upwards and downwards to her, time and time again, that he'd let them starve before he tried to steal.

The problem with Sheik, though, was that he was an obstinate, strong-willed little boy.

Niri had the worst feeling about this. She held her broken wrist to her and ran the way the young man had, towards the city square, praying with all her might, all that she had within her, that her baby boy hadn't been stupid and he wasn't the one who was going to be hurt. She tried to reason with herself as she ran. Perhaps Sheik hadn't come home because he, like everyone else, had stopped in the square to watch. There was a chance that could be true, wasn't there?

Niri made it to the city square, looking around wildly, trying to see past the thick crowd all around her. Everyone was turned towards the center of the square, standing almost shoulder to shoulder. Niri was beyond panicking now as she pushed and shoved her way through the mob, just trying to _see_ ; trying to prove to herself that it wasn't Sheik. It couldn't be Sheik. Sheik wouldn't have done something like this, not when Niri had told him a hundred times not to.

People all around her were muttering to themselves, to each other, loud and disconcerting. Telling her to piss off, some of them getting the strangest look on their face when they laid eyes on her. Please, please, goddesses above, let Sheik be somewhere else, let him—

"No! No, no, no, please!"

Niri knew that voice. Oh, goddesses, no. She'd spent twelve years raising the boy to whom that voice belonged to, but never before had she felt such great sorrow in hearing it.

Just above the rumbling of the crowd, it came again. "Stop! I'm sorry, please! Please, no, no!"

That was it. Niri was done fighting with the crowd. She shoved and she kicked, bursting her way through the last layer of people, splitting them like a field of wheat. The ring of spectators had formed a little circle of open space in the middle of the square, occupied only by three people: Sheik, and two soldiers.

Niri's hand flew to her mouth to keep herself from crying out. Sheik was on the ground, forced to his knees by one of the soldiers who had his foot on top of Sheik's back, keeping him in place. The other soldier was squatted down in front of Sheik, a clump of Sheik's wheaten hair in his fist, straining his head back to look at him. Sheik, her poor baby boy, had his eyes squeezed shut, wincing away as big, fat tears streamed down his cheeks. Niri felt physical pain in her chest as she watched her son purse his lips tight against the whimpers that were escaping.

Her worst fears had come true. Goddesses, please let the both of them get through this alive.

She made sure to stay out of the center of the circle, knowing her interfering would probably only make things worse. But oh, goddesses, everything within her was _screaming_ at her to run and shield her baby boy, push aside the solider with his foot on her son's back and kick away the one with a fistful of his hair. For goodness sake, she just wanted to protect him! He was just a boy! Let her take his punishment for herself so he would not have to suffer it!

She couldn't, though, and she knew it. She could only watch and wait. There were too many people around them, too many who looked between mother and son and threaded together a story that they, in their arrogant minds, thought they knew. She didn't need to look at anyone else because she already knew what she'd see. Were she to meet the eyes of one of the other spectators around the square, she would be met with a shrewd look of condescension. Why? Because people were cruel; and to them, it made perfect sense that the bastard Sheikah son of an unmarried Sheikah woman would be caught and punished like this. To them, of course someone like her Sheik would turn out a thief. It was only natural for their type, wasn't it? Poor, dirty, criminal Sheikah. And her son—her young, adolescent son—was to pay the price. Well, fuck them all. Fuck them and their stares and their looks. Niri had eyes only for Sheik, crying and gasping hysterically on the ground.

The soldier squatting in front of him let go of his hair finally, standing to his feet and surveying the crowd, one hand on the dagger in his belt. He looked over and said something to the other soldier who was holding Sheik down with a foot, though Niri could not hear what it was he said. The other soldier nodded, though, as if something had been agreed upon between them.

 _What are they waiting for_?! Niri inwardly snarled. She knew well enough that she could do nothing to stop this, and so the best she could hope for right then was that they would get all of this over with so she could have her son back again.

The soldier in front of Sheik reached down and grabbed Sheik's wrist, yanking it forward when the boy tried to resist and raising it as far into the air as it would go with the other man still pressing down on his back. Sheik cried out, both in pain and in fear, the hand that the soldier had grabbed balling into a fist, straining to get away. The soldier, with some obvious effort, pried Sheik's fingers apart, holding them back with his gloved thumb as his other hand went back to the dagger at his belt, drawing it.

Niri watched, numbed, as Sheik became aware of the blade above him. She watched as he twisted and writhed and screamed and cried, all to no avail. He was so little, and the soldiers so big. She watched as the solider splayed his fingers, grabbing one and yanking it upwards to stop Sheik's jostling, positioning his blade over it.

"No! No, no, please!" Sheik was beyond hysterical now, begging at the top of his lungs, trying with all his might to pull away. "Please! Please! Ple—"

Sheik's cries meant nothing to them. The soldier brought the knife down on his smallest finger, hacking it off in a sawing motion.

Niri would remember the sound of his screaming until the day she died. It was pain, and sorrow. It was hopelessness and terror. It was the kind of sound that she should only ever have to endure in her darkest nightmares; and yet there it was, happening right then to her only child.

Sheik screamed and screamed, having gone limp as soon as the blade started cutting through him. There was so much blood to be had of it, running down his wrist and forearm, dripping and pooling onto the cobbled street. He cried and he wailed, but the soldier continued to cut and lacerate; and before too many more seconds had passed, it was over. Sheik slumped to the ground, motionless, and the two soldiers stepped away from him. The one with the knife leaned down and wiped the edges of his blade on Sheik's tunic, tossing his dismembered finger on the ground beside him before spitting on the ground near his body.

"Thieves will not go without punishing!" he called out to the crowd around them, gesturing to Sheik with a bloodstained glove. "Let this little whelp be a lesson of that. Now everyone get on with your fucking business!"

With that, the two soldiers left, working their way through the crowd. Some people left immediately, but others lingered, peering at the center of the square where her son lay, weeping into the ground and clutching his injured hand to his chest, curled in a ball.

Soldiers gone, Niri marched forward and lowered herself on the ground next to Sheik, taking care not to jostle her broken wrist. There were still many watching them, so she couldn't let herself go into hysterics like she so badly wanted to. This was probably for the better, though. Sheik needed her to be strong.

Leaning over her son, she stroked a few fingers through his sweaty, matted hair; and just like that, his eyes—squeezed shut—fluttered opened. He saw her, recognizing her, and an all new, fresh wave of tears overcame him. "M-mama?" he sniffed, nearly choking over his labored breaths.

"Hush, little one," Niri said softly, pulling him closer to her, lifting him as best as she could with one arm trying to get him to sit up. "We're going home."

"I'm so sorry, mama!" Sheik cried, weakly rising to his feet as Niri urged him to. He was shaky, like a newborn fawn on unfamiliar legs, but he managed to stand. She didn't waste any time, either. As soon as he was on his feet, she reached down and rucked up his tunic, looking him straight in his watery red eyes. "Use your shirt to apply pressure, try and stop the bleeding," she instructed, leading him forward. "You've got to last until I can get you home."

People stared at them as they left, but Niri had long stopped caring. She wanted to tell them all to go fuck themselves. How dare they stare at the two of them like they were some sort of freakish form of entertainment. Their pain wasn't for them to see.

"Mama," Sheik sniffed, hobbling along beside her. He was falling behind. "Mama, I-I'm so, so sorry, I—"

"I said hush," she said gruffly, wrapping her arm around his slender shoulders, pulling him against her as she hurried them through the crowd. She kept her face stony and fierce, though she couldn't help the big, fat tears dripping down her cheeks. She could feel Sheik looking up at her, dazed and in pain, but she kept her eyes fixed forward, finally leaving the square and turning them down a side street. "You know better now," she murmured. "You ought to have known better before, but you know better now, and that's going to have to be good enough, because that's all we have."

"I-I wanted to—" he hiccupped, groaning at the pace she'd set. "It was for you. I swear it was for you. I just wanted you to—" He paused to cry out when she wrenched them both to the side to avoid a couple who was watching them pass. "Mama, I wanted you to be able to eat something nice for once, and I—"

"Shh, baby," Niri cooed, blinking away the heavy wetness from her eyes. A few more blocks, and then they would be home. "We'll talk about it later. I want you to be quiet and concentrate."

They'd arrived home and Niri had done all she could to stop the bleeding. Sheik broke out in a fever the next day, and he'd been up all night tossing and turning with the sickness. It took days for him to recover from the fever, and weeks for him to really start speaking again. Ever since that day, he'd hanged. He was hesitant now, even meek up to a point. He said less and smiled less, though he still told her he loved her at least once a day. They still made it by, still made ends meet somehow, but the days just seemed more somber following what happened. So much joy had seeped out of the world, like Sheik finally understood as well as she did that they were only still living through sheer force of will. The experience had changed him. He'd spent his entire childhood being picked on by others, but Niri didn't think he had really understood how cruel the world could be until that day, and how careful you had to be just to make it through each day.

It was such an exhausting concept. But right then? It was the best that they had.

* * *

 **Epilogue**

* * *

Four weeks after Sheik's fourteenth birthday was the last day that Niri ever saw her son. She remembered everything that happened like it was yesterday, and she kept the memory of it all through the years, refusing to forget despite the pain it caused her to think back on it.

The day had started in the same was as every other in that miserable city. She was thirty-three, dead-tired from hard labor, and getting ready to show up for work. Sheik, recently sprouted up like a bean pole and taller than her by at least six inches, breezed past her on his way out for the day, kissing her head as he passed.

"Stop by Paula's tavern on your way home today, will you?" Niri murmured, willing herself to rise from the table, grimacing at the protesting muscles in her back. "Goddesses, I'm getting old," she groaned.

Sheik stopped by the door and smiled at her, though it didn't reflect in his eyes. A true smile was rare for him in those days. "You're not old, mama, you're just tired. There's a difference." He hiked his bag further up his shoulder, cocking his head. "Why do I need to stop by the tavern?" he asked. "Paula is sick of me showing up by now. She's stopped calling me 'dear' and now she just says 'oh, it's you.'" He shook his head. "Mama, I think we've sort of worn our welcome there. I think we did years ago."

"Because I have about a half cup of rolled oats left for supper, and that's between the two of us. Just ask her if there's any food she's throwing away or doesn't need. Do it for me, please."

Sheik wrinkled his brow, giving her an unhappy look. "No one throws away food, mama. She's been giving us handouts, good and fresh, and both you and I know it. She can't afford to be doing that, but she's too good to tell us no."

Niri sighed, shaking her head. What else could she say? "Amond has taken to charging us rent," she murmured, clearing her throat. "Most of our money is going to keeping this roof over our heads, so unless you want an empty belly tonight, you have to at least _ask_."

Sheik's face twisted up into a sneer. "Hatton's rotten son? He's your boss now?"

Niri nodded. "Since last month, he's taken over. Hatton's fallen ill, spends most of his days sick in bed."

Sheik shook his head, looking angry. "This is ridiculous. You need to leave them, mama. The whole reason you agreed to the piss poor wage Hatton was giving you was because this fucking shack of a house was included in the deal. And now his fucking son is trying to charge us to live in it? That is bullshit!"

"Language, Sheik," Niri warned. "I won't have my own son cursing in front of me."

"Well they're fucking starving us!" Sheik shouted back, setting his jaw, glaring at her.

Niri sighed, shaking her head. "We're both going to be late if we don't go now. Please, Sheik, just talk to Paula on your way home. That's all I'm asking."

Sheik huffed loudly, hitting the crooked door with his shoulder to open it. "Fine," he snapped. "See you."

Those were the last words Niri ever heard from him, called over his shoulder as he left for the day and slammed the door behind him. She'd regretted for years telling him about how little food they had for the night, because she felt that if she'd just kept it to herself, stopped by the tavern herself, then Sheik wouldn't have gone to the market to steal again. Maybe then he wouldn't have been caught, been arrested, been taken away from her without her even knowing.

And she _hadn't_ known, either. It had been a lot like the day Sheik had been caught the first time: she'd been sitting at home, wondering where he was. But as it started to get dark, she'd gone out looking for him—stayed out for hours, well into the night—and finally learned from someone on the street who had seen everything happen that Sheik had been arrested and taken away.

And Niri had never seen him again.

She'd gone home alone and sobbed for hours; and though she had shown up for work the next morning, she'd cried there too, all day. Sheik, her son whom she'd devoted her entire life to for the past fourteen years was gone, and there was no getting him back. She felt such an aching, raw hole in her chest at the thought and memory. A part of her was gone with Sheik.

There was no getting him back. And it had been so sudden. That morning he'd been there, just like any other day, and that evening he'd been gone. Just the thought that she'd been sitting at home wondering where he was while he was being taken away. The _guilt_ that that thought brought her was unbearable at times. Some days she didn't know what to think; but most days she just felt the weight of the world and her sorrow bearing down upon her until she almost couldn't stand it. The pain got easier to handle as the years passed, and she wasn't alone the whole time. She made new connections with people, not able to bear being alone. She fell in and out of love. She made herself keep on living.

Niri was forty-two. It was early in the morning, and she was getting ready to leave for work for the day.

Just as she did every morning before she stepped out the door, she glanced at an old pair of boots she kept by the door. They belonged to Sheik, a pair he had outgrown at some point. Seeing them there by the door was her way of remembering and honoring him every morning. She used to be terrified she'd somehow forget about him through all the twists and turns her life had taken since then, but not anymore. The little boots by the door were more a way for her to remember the happier times they'd had together. It was her way of reminding herself how much she still loved him.

She liked to think he was still out there somewhere, free and happy; or at least that's what she hoped. She'd heard about the prison breakout of a few weeks ago, something about the walls crumbling to the ground and all of the prisoners getting free, but Niri liked to think of it in a different light. She liked to think that her Sheik had finally gotten free, after all these years. She still held a little hope in her heart that he'd come and see her somehow, but she kept gently reminding herself that it would probably never happen. They'd be strangers now, as well. It had been nearly ten years. They would be about as far away from mother and son as two people could be.

But still, she hoped.

"Baby?" Niri called, glancing back over her shoulder, scanning the room. "Are you ready to go? We're going to be late." She bent down to fiddle with the lacings on her boot.

The sound of scampering little footsteps could be heard from behind her. "Coming, mama!"

"Ani, please don't run," Niri cautioned, straightening and turning around to look at her daughter just as the little girl plopped down on the old wooden floorboards so she could tug her little boots on. Boots that were smaller than the old pair of Sheik's by the door, she thought as she watched. Niri would probably give them to Ani when she grew big enough for them; otherwise it would just be a waste of a good pair of shoes, no matter how much they meant to her. She liked the way of connecting her little girl to her big brother somehow, even if it was in such a small way. She'd told Ani all about Sheik, of course, but the 'big brother who's not here anymore' was little more than a story to the seven year old. That was alright, though. It was enough for Niri that Ani knew he existed somewhere out there.

"Sorry, mama," Ani said. "I was just tryin' to hurry, like you said." She glanced up at her with a huge but sheepish smile, tucking a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

Niri couldn't help but smile, glancing from her daughter to Sheik's boots by the door, Ani following her gaze to them. Sheik was gone, that was true; but Ani was such a blessing, and she saw so much of Sheik in her every day. Her mischievous smile, the way she'd recently taken to rolling her eyes at things Niri would say to her. She was absolutely precious, and as much a handful as Sheik had been.

But things were better for them now. Niri had a better job and money wasn't so tight, although she was a bit apprehensive at some of the strange news that had been coming out of Castle Town lately. Something about a lord from the desert claiming the throne? But in the long run none of that affected her or Ani. She had no more time to do any ruminating, anyways. They were going to be late.

"Ready to go, baby girl?" Niri asked, glancing at her again.

Ani scrambled to her feet, nodding vigorously.

Niri smiled, one hand on the door knob. "Then let's go. We're going to have a good day."

* * *

 **Nearly every scene began with Sheik not arriving back on time, until the last one where he never arrived back at all. I hope that this was a good read for everyone, and that it gave some insight into some things. ^^ What do you think? If you liked it or have any comments, questions, etc., please leave a review or send me a PM! I'll answer anything I can!**


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